Swan Song
by Aeternus.Flamma
Summary: Tensions in Gotham skyrocket as a man out for revenge seeks the blood of those who ruined his family. Unfortunately for Bruce, Wayne Enterprises is caught up in the disaster. Knowing that it's too much for Alfred to handle alone, Bruce takes matters into his own hands and hires some extra help. (Canon pairings and eventual Alfred/OC because Alfie doesn't get enough love!)
1. Chapter 1

Swan Song

Rated: T

Tensions in Gotham skyrocket as a man out for revenge seeks the blood of those who ruined his family. Unfortunately for Bruce, Wayne Enterprises is caught up in the disaster, putting him in harm's way once more. Knowing that it's too much for Alfred to handle alone, and that Detective Gordon can't always be around to save his skin, Bruce takes matters into his own hands and hires some extra help. (Canon pairings and eventual Alfred/OC because Alfie doesn't get enough love!)

000

"No one's going to think less of you for coming alone, Master Bruce."

The young Wayne heir sat in the back of his shiny black car, tapping the pearlized cardstock invitation on his left palm. He looked down and read it for the thousandth time, and debated tearing it up for the hundredth.

 _Gotham Children's Hospital Charity Gala – Mister Bruce Wayne and Guest._

Of course no one expected him to actually attend with a date, but since he had taken Selina to the last party he had attended, he felt that he had established a precedent he should have followed. Selina refused to appear, however, when he went looking for her in her usual spots. It hurt that she ignored him. She was one of his few friends, though she seemed to deny that fact.

Even though it hurt, he hoped, truly hoped, that she really _was_ avoiding him, and that she hadn't had something awful happen to her. The thought was frequently on his mind.

"I know," Bruce replied after a moment, "I just hope no one mentions it. I won't know what to say."

Alfred chuckled and looked at Bruce from the rearview mirror. "Master Bruce, if there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that you'll have to get used to that. Girls come and go. For someone such as yourself, someone so constantly in the public eye, people are going to notice no matter what. They'll wonder and speculate, and they'll look for some pathetic story for their gossip columns. As long as you're a proper gentleman however, you can ignore all of that and let them have their fill. It's nothing to get worked up about."

Bruce nodded to himself but didn't respond. Alfred was right, of course.

They sat in silence with nothing but the pattering raindrops for abidance for a few more minutes while Bruce occasionally glanced up at the building to his right. They were parked in front of the Gotham Natural History Museum, which had been booked out for the gala. The last time that Bruce had been there, he had gone with his parents. Now if he did eventually go in, he would be alone. Completely alone.

"Alfred, maybe you could—"

"—sit right here and wait for you to call? I'm sure that's what you were about to say. It would be highly in appropriate for a butler to enter a black tie gala."

"R-right. Yes, of course. I doubt I will stay long," Bruce said and tucked his invitation into his breast pocket. Alfred pulled the keys from the ignition, though the car had already been off, and grabbed the oversized umbrella from the passenger seat. He opened the door and then the umbrella before fully exiting.

Alfred popped the collar on his pea coat and looked around, just to double check that everything was clear. There were a few police cars sitting around the block, watching the building. Though Alfred hadn't heard of any reason for caution, it never hurt. Gotham was far from a safe place, and when the wealthy gathered, the roaches of society were sure to be nearby. Once he deemed the block safe, Alfred walked around to the other side of the car and opened the door for his young ward.

Bruce stepped around and adjusted his tailored jacket as he did so. Together they walked up the wide stone steps to the awning that was roped off with security guards standing on either side. The two men, both dressed in suits with inconspicuous earpieces, stepped forward and blocked the entrance. "Please show your invitation," one of them demanded.

Bruce withdrew the invitation and handed it over. The man took it and walked down the awning to check the invitation against a list before nodding to the other security guard.

"Thank you for your patience, enjoy your evening." The guard unclipped the velvet rope blocking the way and stepped aside to allow Bruce to pass. Once he entered into the building, Alfred gave a nod to both of the security guards and turned to head back to his car.

000

When Bruce entered the museum, the first thing that struck him was that it wasn't as big as he had remembered as a child. Of course, it was still quite large, especially on the first floor which split off into numerous large exhibit halls, but…. Not as towering. He used to feel so small when he looked up at the grand staircase leading up into other parts of the building. Now, he realized that it was almost the size of the one he had at home, only a bit wider.

A few people smiled at him and nodded, and he returned the gesture. No one approached him, and he did not approach anyone. He didn't see any familiar faces. He hadn't even seen one member of the Wayne Enterprises Board of Directors, which he found surprising. Though he kept a straight face and an even stride, the hair on the back of Bruce's neck started to stand the deeper he went into the crowd of strangers.

"Bruce."

He turned to see Detective Gordon giving him a slight wave. Inwardly, Bruce gave a sigh of relief and side stepped to meet his friend.

"Detective Gordon," Bruce replied and extended his hand. They shook and he smiled. "It's good to see you. I didn't think I would know anyone here."

"I thought the same thing. I recognize some of the security guards, but that's about it."

"Did you also come alone?" Bruce asked, and stood next to Gordon. He shoved his hands into this pockets and watched the crowd. He stuck out like a sore thumb, if only because he was the shortest one there.

Gordon chuckled. "No, no… I'm actually the plus one." Just after he said that, a woman came up behind them. She was carrying two glasses of champagne.

"I see you've made a friend," she said and handed off one of the glasses to Gordon, "sorry about that. Every time the Director sees me, he tries to rope me back in. He's a hard man to say 'no' to…" She sipped her drink and then smiled at Bruce.

"I'm sure… Anyhow, Lee, this is Bruce. Bruce, this is Lee. She's…" Gordon's words trailed as he looked around, as if to make sure no one was listening. As he opened his mouth to continue, Lee sighed.

"Girlfriend. I'm his girlfriend. He always has to check to make sure none of our coworkers are around before he says it. No one's going to care, of course, but he's weird about it. So you're Bruce Wayne? It's a pleasure to meet you. I wish I could say I've heard a lot about you, but Jim's pretty private when it comes to things that may be work related—not that you're only work related of course." She added the last part on quickly, as if she had been afraid she had offended him. She hadn't.

"Of course, that's understandable. So you also work at the police department?" Bruce asked and stared back at her for a response. He was making it a point to keep his eyes from wandering. Lee's dress was a very pretty midnight blue, but it was also rather low cut, and he was still a teenage boy.

Lee nodded. "I'm the medical examiner. Back in the day, I used to work for the Children's Hospital—which is why I received an invitation, I suppose. I swear, they think they can bribe me into going back…" She rolled her eyes and took a sip of champagne.

"Working for the police department seems like it's a pretty big change from working with children," Bruce said. A waiter approached him and offered him a glass. Bruce almost refused until he noticed that the color of the liquid was a bit off. It was sparkling grape juice. He took the glass and realized that he felt a bit more comfortable with a drink in hand. It made him blend it a bit more with everyone else.

"Well, she did have other jobs in between. She actually worked at Arkham for a short period. That's where we met, actually," Gordon replied.

Arkham seemed like it would have been even worse of a job. "Children to criminally insane? That seems like an even further jump."

Lee shrugged and opened her mouth to reply before shutting it. She looked around and waited for a server to pass her buy. She stepped a bit closer and lowered her voice. "To be honest, it isn't something I care to talk about. All I can say is that working to help children is one of the most rewarding experiences possible. Working for the Children's Hospital, however, is not."

Bruce nodded and furrowed his brows a bit. He wasn't sure if Lee was aware or not, but Wayne Enterprises subsidiary, WellZyne, was one of the major donors to the hospital. He was about to ask her another question regarding the matter when the lights dimmed and the servers started ushering the guests into the ancient Rome exhibit hall for opening comments.

000

Alfred sat in the front seat of the Wayne car with a newspaper in hand. He had finished reading it that morning but had saved the crossword for his downtime. Though Bruce promised he wouldn't be staying long, Alfred expected he would have at least an hour before he was summoned to the front again with the umbrella. So he sat quietly, parked under a streetlight so he could see his puzzle, with his mobile on the dashboard, and waiting for his call.

He was focusing hard on his paper, trying to figure out a seven letter word for ' _if it all goes wrong_ ,' when there was a sudden wrapping on the window, just next to his head. He was ashamed that he jumped so violently. He must have been losing his edge.

His hand immediately went to the side of his seat, just inches away from the firearm he had concealed, just in case. He tried not to keep such things around Master Bruce, but with the last attempt on his life, he had made the judgement call to keep some sort of protection around. It was unneeded, however.

Selina Kyle stood outside of the car, a sly smile on her face and two fingers waved in some sort of mock wave.

Well, Alfred had _thought_ it was a smile, at least. Once he opened the door and got a proper look at her, without the water covered window and streetlight shadows obstructing her from his view, he realized that she was grimacing. "Bloody hell, girl, you gave me a fright. What are you doin' here?"

" _Please_ tell me that Bruce is across the street getting a latte and not inside the museum with all of Gotham's prime targets?"

Alfred raised his hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. It had stopped raining, at least. "Of course he's in the museum. Why else would you think I'm sitting out here waiting for him?"

Selina put her hands in her curly hair and paced around a bit. "You have to get him out of there, Alfred. There's going to be an attack. Some heavy hitters are going to go after some of the big names in the room tonight. I don't think they'll care who's caught in the crossfire."

Alfred turned and looked towards the closest police car parked on the block. It was empty. "Damn! Damn, damn, damn! How did I miss that?" He reached into the car and grabbed his phone. For a moment, he almost reached under the seat to grab his gun. He decided against it. If he walked up to the security guards while carrying, it was most likely that they would turn on him before he could explain himself. "Why couldn't you have told us this _before_ we left? Bruce has been lookin' all over for you, and you just now turn up!"

The teenage girl shrugged and frowned. "I dunno what to tell ya. I was busy, okay? As soon as I heard, I came straight here to try to warn you guys."

He continued muttering profanities under his breath as he called Bruce's mobile. Immediately, it went to voicemail. Bruce had hung up on him. Alfred cursed and picked up his pace, hurrying to meet the two security guards placed out front of the museum.

000

 _Author's Notes: Well, we'll see how long I stay motivated to finish this. I have a rough concept in my mind, but plenty of stuff is subject to change. A few things to note: I will be aiming to bring in most characters who are still around at the end of season one. I am into season two of the show, but I've decided that the plot will not include the Rise of Villains arch. I may include some of the threads in the story in their own way, especially for characters like Ed Nygma who are already very involved._

 _A note on the 'romance.' So, if anyone is a reader of mine from past stories, you already know that I am all about the 'slow burn.' Things take time to develop. I do not just throw together characters and say "Now kiss!" It will be a long, tense process that will hopefully drive everyone crazy because of the realism of developing relationships =) . I also try very hard to make a story that could fit in the canon universe. I will try my damnedest to keep character personalities in line. I've never attempted a crime drama…. So we'll see how this goes!_

 _Thanks for reading!_

 _Ever Your Servant,_

 _A.F_


	2. Chapter 2

Swan Song

Aternus. Flamma

Rated: T

Tensions in Gotham skyrocket as a man out for revenge seeks the blood of those who ruined his family. Unfortunately for Bruce, Wayne Enterprises is caught up in the disaster, putting him in harm's way once more. Knowing that it's too much for Alfred to handle alone, and that Detective Gordon can't always be around to save his skin, Bruce takes matters into his own hands and hires some extra help. (Canon pairings and eventual Alfred/OC because Alfie doesn't get enough love!)

000

The security guards immediately blocked his way as they saw him near. Alfred tried to call Bruce for a third time, but still his call went to voicemail. One of the security guards raised his hand. "I'm sorry sir, but without an invitation, you cannot enter."

"Oh, come on! You saw me earlier! I was with the only child in there!" Alfred shouted, raising his hand and waving at the entrance. The other men stiffened at his motion, as if it were some sort of threat. "Look, check you list. Bruce Wayne received a plus one on his invitation. I'm his legal guardian, so I'm his plus one."

"I'm sorry sir, but that should have been noted ahead of time. We can't let you in. Have you tried calling him?"

"Of course I've tried bloody calling him! That's the first thing that I did!"

A third suited security guard saw the fuss from inside of the museum and quickly stepped onto the scene. "What seems to be the problem, sir?"

"I need to speak to Bruce Wayne right away. He isn't answering his cellphone, and yes, it is an emergency."

The new security guard looked a bit skeptical, his lips pressed together in a thin line as he glanced between each of his colleges. "Bruce Wayne? I'm sorry sir, but I can't simply call Bruce Wayne out to speak with each person who demands it, you understand. Besides, we don't even have a PA system, I would have to go and interrupt—"

Alfred's arms shot out and he grabbed the man in front of him but the collar and pulled him close. Immediately, the other two security guards drew their weapons. "Now you listen to me, you go in there and get him or so help me, I will make a bigger scene until your boss comes out here, then I will demand he issue a Code Adam. I am the boy's legal guardian, and if you keep me from him, I swear I will get the cops down here to charge you with kidnapping."

The guard who was caught up in Alfred's grasp slowly placed his hands on Alfred's forearms and wrapped his fingers around tightly until Alfred let go.

"I understand sir. Please wait here."

Of course, he knew he needed to tell them about the possibility of an impending attack. However from what he knew about security protocol in this sort of situation, the building would go into lock down until the police arrived. The fact that the police who were supposed to be stationed outside were missing would be discovered shortly after, and panic would likely set in.

And when crowds panicked, chaos ensued.

He would wait until he had Bruce safely in his custody before telling the security detail to be on high alert. After all, Bruce was priority.

000

"Something wrong?" Gordon leaned over and whispered into Bruce's ear.

"Alfred's calling again. It's the fourth time. He doesn't usually do something like this unless it's an emergency. I know I should answer, but I don't want to be rude," Bruce replied, nodding to the speaker on stage. They were listening to their third speech in a row, all of which were very conspicuously pleading for donations, despite their best efforts to not sound desperate.

Gordon glanced around them and put his hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Come on, we can go into that hallway. It's small so the echo shouldn't be too bad, and you won't disturb anyone… Not that I think anyone's really listening. Lee, we'll be right back." The woman looked at Gordon with a smile and nodded before turning her attention back to the stage.

Together, the two of them maneuvered through the crowd until they were able to slip through an open door which led to the restrooms. A few people eyed them up as they left, a few others huffed in annoyance when they had to step aside to let them pass.

Gordon positioned himself so he could see out the door at an angle, with his back to Bruce. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, trying not to let his boredom show. Bruce called Alfred and put the phone to his ear. After it rang for a fourth time, he frowned deeply. "Now he's not answering."

"Maybe it was a butt-dial."

Bruce shook his head. "He keeps his phone in sight when he's waiting for me. If he put it away, it would be in his breast pocket. An accidental dial is unlikely. "

"Is he in a car outside? I'll go with you if you want to check on him, just in case."

"No," Bruce replied and looked down at his phone. "Wait—yes. I think maybe it would be for the best. I have a bad feeling, and my intuition is rarely wrong."

000

Alfred paced back and forth in front of the red velvet rope impatiently. It was taking far too long for someone to find Bruce. He was the only damned child in the whole museum! How hard could it have been? He was so preoccupied with his thoughts about Bruce's danger that he didn't notice his own. He didn't notice when the guard on his right slowly started to move away from the awning until he was just behind Alfred.

It wasn't until the guard stepped into Alfred's personal space that his fight or flight instincts kicked in and he whirled around, his fist already flying at the man who tried to get the jump on him. His fist collided with the man's jaw, but before he could get another hit in, the guard next to the awning rushed forward and wrapped his arms around Alfred's torso.

Guard number one recovered enough to grab Alfred's collar and slam his fist into the older man's face. The force of the blow caused Alfred to fall backwards, which in turn made guard number two stumble a bit. His grasp loosened enough for Alfred to hunch forward and force his arms outwards, breaking the hold. He elbowed guard number to in the stomach and then charged the guard in front of him. He kept his head low and went for the man's waist, throwing him off balance and causing them both to go crashing into the ground.

As they struggled on the wet ground, their bodies only two feet from the stone steps of the museum, it momentarily crossed Alfred's mind that both men had guns, and yet neither had chosen to use them. He thoughts were interrupted when he felt a boot collide with his side. He sucked in sharply but didn't stop his assault, ramming his elbow repeatedly into the downed guard's chest. But then another kick came, and another, and it was enough to cause him to roll off to try to put some distance between himself and the boot.

"Just stay down, old man!" The standing guard shouted at him and closed the distance between them. He had Alfred's head in a strong lock in moments, slowly cutting off his air supply. "You're not who we're after! You don't need to die—just stay down!"

He grasped at the man's arms and tried to pull them off. He just couldn't get a good grip however. His hands were wet and covered in bits of gravel from the ground. Soon, his vision was blurring and his attempt at breaking through became nothing more than weak slapping against the black suit of his attacker. With his last conscious thoughts, he cursed himself.

He cursed his body and his age. He cursed his mind for not realizing what was happening sooner.

Maybe he was getting too old for this.

He was unconscious before his body hit the ground, his head hanging over the ledge of the first step awkwardly. The guard on the ground groaned and rubbed his ribs—which were surely bruised, if not broken. He struggled to stand, but once he was up, the two guards worked together to raise Alfred's limp body from the ground and move him into the shadows.

000

As Gordon and Bruce made their way towards the back of the crowd, aiming to get back to the main entrance of the museum, they saw that the front doors were shut. They had been open all night, at that point, to keep the large, old wooden doors from creaking and echoing through the building each time they needed opened. Two men were standing guard but they were not wearing the matching suits of the security guards. Instead, they were both wearing tight, black, spandex-like turtlenecks resembling active wear.

They looked entirely out of place.

Gordon turned and looked for the nearest emergency exit, only to see that it, too, was blocked. Gordon put his hand out to block Bruce from continuing onwards. "Something's not right," he muttered and steered Bruce away from their path. Gordon stared at the men at the front door and they stared back, almost as if it were a warning to keep him from approaching.

As they turned back towards the group of people, they heard a door behind the speaker open with a loud squeaking sound. Gordon hurried the pace until they were behind a set of large pillars that held up a balcony in the ancient Rome exhibit.

The speaker turned away from the microphone, covering it with his hand. Gordon looked up just in time to see the speaker quickly raise his hands above his head and stumble backwards, knocking the podium over with a crash. A few individuals walked up on the raised platform acting a stage. They were masked and held semi-automatic rifles in their hands. They were also dragging another man behind them.

There was a collective wave of fear spreading across the crowd—the crowd which Gordon had left Lee in—as muttering took over. People did not waste any time turning and looking for the nearest escapes, but the men blocking each exit took a step forward and drew their own weapons from behind them.

"Good evening everyone!" The first masked man up to the stage shouted to the crowd. The microphone may have been on the ground, but he clearly didn't need any help projecting. His loud voice boomed in the large room, echoing off of high walls and ceiling. The noise from the crowd increased. "Now, now, before everyone starts to panic, I want to assure you that most of you won't be harmed. You won't even be robbed! We're only here for a select few. To kick things off, I'd like to introduce Director Andrew Schneider!"

The man who was dragged onto the stage was pushed forward. He fell to his knees in front of the crowd. He rocked slightly and Gordon could see his mouth moving—praying, maybe.

"Director Schneider has been in charge of the Gotham Children's Hospital for over ten years," the masked man announced, a hint of condescension in his voice. "To patients and their families, he seems like a great guy. However, employees at the hospital can attest to his true colors. Director Schneider has been known to sexually harass his employees to the point where they quit, because reports of his behavior mysteriously vanish. This may not seem like a big deal—you may say, 'but Guy, that happens in every workplace!'"

Gordon's grip on Bruce's jacket tightened and he started pulling the boy next to him, hiding him from view as he moved. "You need to hide. If things go bad, you don't want to be caught in the crossfire."

"I have to find Alfred—"

"—no, you have to stay alive to find Alfred once this is all done. There, the dessert table, get down low and hide beneath it. The tablecloth is long, no one will see you. Don't come out until I say, okay? I'm not going to let anything happen to you. I refuse." Gordon nodded to the table just a few feet away from them and released Bruce's jacket.

Bruce turned and looked like he wanted to argue with Gordon, but instead, he clenched his jaw and turned away. He ducked down low and moved to the table. Gordon watched as Bruce slid under the table with only the grace a child could still have. He turned back and slowly reached into his coat pocked to withdraw his weapon.

"I'll tell you what's different," the masked man continued, "the difference is that because of his misconduct, GCH couldn't keep even the minimum number of required doctors on staff. This led to the decline in patient care, since the work was left to underqualified individuals, who were far too underpaid and overworked. Last year alone, over a dozen children died from malpractice. Do you hear about this in the media? Of course not—that would be because the parties who have the most interest in the hospital, companies like Wayne Enterprises and their subsidiary WellZyne, are paying to cover it up to keep revenue flowing, just as they have been for over ten years."

At the mention of Wayne Enterprises, Gordon clenched his jaw and hoped that no one had seen Bruce's hiding space.

000

 _Author's Notes: something I figured I should mention. When I write, I am to write a 'section' as one character's POV, so you will only know the thoughts of that character in that particular scene. I just wanted to make it clear that it's all on purpose! Additionally, I do not have someone beta reading this, so please forgive any misspellings or grammatical mistakes!_

 _Thanks for reading!_

 _Ever Your Servant,_

 _A.F_


	3. Chapter 3

Swan Song

Aeternus. Flamma

Rated: T

Tensions in Gotham skyrocket as a man out for revenge seeks the blood of those who ruined his family. Unfortunately for Bruce, Wayne Enterprises is caught up in the disaster, putting him in harm's way once more. Knowing that it's too much for Alfred to handle alone, and that Detective Gordon can't always be around to save his skin, Bruce takes matters into his own hands and hires some extra help. (Canon pairings and eventual Alfred/OC because Alfie doesn't get enough love!)

000

A few of the other masked men stepped up and took points on either side of the stage, their own weapons raised to the crowd. The one talking lifted his and pointed it at the Director's body.

Gordon stopped where he was and grabbed his badge, holding it into the air. "GCPD! Drop your weapons!"

The guests around his scrambled to get out of Gordon's vicinity. Soon, he stood alone in his own little circle. The attackers had just as clear of a view of him, as he had of them.

The masked man laughed. "Detective Gordon. I was wondering how long it would take for you to try to stop us."

"I've called for backup. You'll be surrounded in minutes with no way to escape. Put down your weapons and turn yourselves over before this gets any worse."

The man chuckled. "No you didn't."

"I did, the moment I saw you goons at the door. Now drop 'em!"

"No use lying, Detective Gordon. I know you didn't call. I know, because I'm listening to the police scanner right now—and it's radio silence. No one's coming to help. But that's okay! As I said, I'm not here to hurt most of the guests. I wanted to get the Hospital's Board of Directors, but it seems they decided not to show… I'll settle for the Director, though. He knew how his actions were affecting the hospital, but he continued on anyhow. Maybe some of those kids would be alive if they had adequate doctors diagnosing them." The man did not drop his weapon—none of the attackers did. In fact, they only took a step closer to the crowd.

"So, what? You're doing this for the kids? Taking a life won't bring back another. You're not doing anyone any good by killing someone!" Gordon cocked his own gun and aimed it at the speaking man.

"Maybe not. But it sure makes me feel better. Now, you have two options, you let me shoot this pathetic excuse for a human being, and we let everyone else go. Or, you try to shoot me, and my buddies here start putting bullets into party guests. Which is it?"

Gordon could hear whispers around him, begging him to put his gun down. But he couldn't. He couldn't just concede to the criminals, even if it put more lives at risk. His body tensed and for the briefest second, he wondered how many he could put down before they managed to kill anyone.

In that brief moment, someone ran up behind him and tackled him. His gun went off, but he shot too high, hitting a mosaic mounted high on the wall. He tried to catch himself, to keep himself from falling, but there was another shove as another body hit his, and then another. It wasn't until he was smashed onto the floor that he realized that the guests had decided to dogpile him.

His gun was kicked away, somewhere into the crowd. His hand was crushed as a woman stepped on it, her stiletto hitting his nerves and causing him to cry out in pain. There was so much weight on him that he felt the air in his lungs being squeezed out until he thought for sure he would suffocate. For a second, he thought that maybe he could hear Lee calling out to him, but then he couldn't hear anything—well, anything but laughing from the masked man.

Gordon could only listen as the man's gun went off, sending a smattering of bullets presumably into Director Schneider's body. People screamed around him and ran for the doors. Some of the weight lifted off of him, but his arms and legs were trampled in the process. He shouted for people to get off of him, to run for cover, but it didn't matter. It was too late.

"It's been fun, ladies and gents, and I promise that you haven't seen the last of us! You should start paying attention to those running the city, 'cause if you don't, we will. And we're starting with the hospital."

There was a rush of food steps as the masked men hurried down the steps of the stage. The metal exit door was thrown open so roughly that it hit off the wall and then clattered closed.

It took two more, long, agonizing minutes before enough weight was lifted off of Gordon to allow him to stand. By the time he did, all he could see were guests. All of the masked men and the guards at the door had disappeared. People were running for the exits, out into the night still night air.

And now that the rain had stopped, it was still.

There was no sign of sirens or lights coming to help.

Gordon limped around until he was at the side of the stage. The Director's body was half hanging over the side, pouring out liters of blood. The man's eyes and mouth were wide open. Though he was certainly dead, Gordon could see the terror staring back at him.

He could also see the reflection of the dessert table through the man's eyes. The tablecloth had been pulled off, and Bruce was nowhere in sighed.

"Bruce," Gordon called out once before calling it out again, but louder and more panicked. He put his injured hands to his hand and ran them through his hair. He had lost him.

000

Shots rang out, causing Bruce to jump enough to hit his head against the top of the table. There was screaming and running, and for a moment, he considered joining the crowd.

But Gordon had told him to stay, and that was what he would do. Or, at least, he had every intention to. He barely had time to reach up and rub his head before the side of the table cloth was picked up and a man with a shaved head peaked under. Right away, Bruce knew that he was one of the men who had been guarding the door.

The table cloth was pulled off quickly and tossed to the side. Bruce turned and started to hurriedly crawl in the opposite direction, but there was another man waiting for him. He grabbed Bruce by the arm hard enough to momentarily hoist him in the air. The man who had pulled the table cloth took his other arm and soon he really was in the air—his feet kicked but he was too short. His feet his the men's large thighs, but did not damage otherwise.

They quickly walked out through the emergency exit behind the stage, but not fast enough to keep Bruce from seeing the freshly made corpse. He froze, his eyes following the gushing body until they were well into the hallway behind the stage. He was so distracted by the body that Bruce realized he hadn't been able to look for Gordon. Where had he gone?

The hallway met a set of stairs, and soon they had managed to get down two flights, albeit awkwardly since the men were trying to maneuver Bruce along with them. Once they hit the bottom, one of the men kicked open another metal door until they exited into the employee parking lot. The masked men were already down there, standing around a shredding company's box truck.

"Damnit, where is Joe?" One of the men snapped, slamming the door shut. "All he had to do was sit in the damned truck! How hard is it?"

"You didn't think to make an extra set of keys?!" Shouted another man.

" _No, I did not think to make another set of keys!_ I didn't think we would lose the first set—or the whole person for that matter! Where the hell did he go?! Did he leave us? That bastard!"

Bruce watched with wide eyes as the men who had just committed murder squabbled with one another over keys. They hardly seemed menacing now, besides the hoods and the guns. One of them was half hanging out of the truck, looking for keys, apparently. Finally, one of the men, the man who had been speaking in the ancient Rome exhibit walked around from the truck and noticed Bruce and his captors.

"Aw, c'mon guys!" He spoke as if someone had just done something exasperating. "What now? Why did you drag a kid down here?"

The men looked at one another over Bruce's head before one of them shrugged. "This is Bruce Wayne. Figured the boss would want him. He is the owner of Wayne Enterprises, now."

The masked man set the tip of his gun against the ground and leaned on it as it were a cane. He raised his other hand to his head and squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, yeah, alright. I guess you're right. He'll probably want to do something with the kid eventually anyhow. Might as well take him, even if I don't like it."

One of the masked men lifted the back door of the truck as the two bald men carried Bruce over. He resumed his kicking.

"Stop! Put—me—down!"

"Sorry kid, you are on the list," the head masked man said with a sigh. "Now we've got to find those keys…"

"You mean these keys?"

Everyone froze. A girl's voice echoed through the parking garage, followed by a light clanking. A set of keys, complete with a green pig keychain, slid across the parking garage floor until it stopped just a few yards away from the front of the truck. Two of the masked men were quick to raise their weapons, scanning the area for their intruder, while a tense silence filled the air.

"What do you want?" One of the men called out after having no luck finding the voice's owner.

"By the time you find the keys, the cops will be here," the voice replied, echoing through the garage. Bruce couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from, but he was almost positive it belonged to Selina. He found himself holding his breath, afraid she would appear and she would be shot.

"I'll trade you—you give me the kid, and I'll tell you where your truck key is."

The masked men looked at one another and huffed, but the leader spoke up anyhow. "That's it? You just want to kid? Alright, fine."

"The boss isn't going to be happy if—" one of the bald men holding onto Bruce started to speak, but the masked leader raises his hand and stopped him.

"He'll be more pissed if we all get arrested. The kid's time will come. We have to stick to the boss's plan. Let the kid go."

Bruce was practically dropped to the ground, but he managed to catch himself before he fell onto the cement. He looked around at his would-be captors and started to back away. The leader waved him on into the direction of the bulk of the cars, and away from the truck. Though he did as directed, he walked backwards to keep an eye on the weapons still pointed at him. Finally, once he had hit about the center of the garage, he heard a click as one of the guns was cocked.

"Stop there, kid," said the masked leader. "Now, girl, where's the key? We find the key, he gets to go. We don't find the key, we put a bullet in his leg."

"Two rows to your right, beneath the green minivan."

As one of the men cautiously started to move forward, Bruce caught movement out of his right eye. Selina was crouched down between two of the cars, waving at him, beckoning for him to come to her. He tried not to turn his head, or even look at her directly. He didn't want the other men to see where she was hiding.

"Got it," shouted the man who went looking for the key.

"Get him," the masked leader said quickly, and soon, three people were running at Bruce.

Bruce didn't waste even a breath before he shot off in Selina's direction. She stood upright from her crouch and ran towards the wall, away from both the emergency exit and the garage exit. Initially, Bruce thought to tell her she was going the wrong way, but he held his tongue. Selina always had a plan—and _always_ an escape route.

The men were gaining on them, and they were about to hit a dead end. They would have to weave back through other cars to get to a door, but they would be cut off before they had a chance. Selina ran straight forward, however, and then dropped down into a slide. The thick fabric of her motorcycle pants and the smooth leather of her jacket let her slide right along the cement until she disappeared into a vent. It's casing had been removed to provide a clean opening, which was just big enough for her body.

Bruce wasn't quite as swift as her, and he had to actually stop to climb into the small space. He was about the same size, so it wasn't too much of a problem. He had just ducked his head in when someone grabbed the sleeve of his tuxedo. Bruce braced himself against the metal walls of the ventilation shaft and pulled as hard as he good. It took two tugs, but he got his sleeve free and was soon sliding down the tight space in the dark.

000

 _Author's notes: I'm sorry if it seems slow moving. I mostly try to hit a certain point and then move onto the next chapter so that I can update quickly. Updating quickly and receiving feedback is really the only way for me to be sure I will continue a story, I've found… We're now three chapters in and you haven't met the main OC… Hopefully that goes to show you that I am not make a story focused around the OCs, but all of the canon characters!_

 _Thanks for reading!_

 _Ever Your Servant,_

 _A.F_


	4. Chapter 4

Swan Song

Aeternus. Flamma

Rated: T

Tensions in Gotham skyrocket as a man out for revenge seeks the blood of those who ruined his family. Unfortunately for Bruce, Wayne Enterprises is caught up in the disaster, putting him in harm's way once more. Knowing that it's too much for Alfred to handle alone, and that Detective Gordon can't always be around to save his skin, Bruce takes matters into his own hands and hires some extra help. (Canon pairings and eventual Alfred/OC because Alfie doesn't get enough love!)

000

He was a bit disoriented when he felt into a pile of dirty rags. There was just enough padding to keep him from breaking anything, but not enough to keep him from quickly developing severe bruises. He took a deep breath and looked around, trying to get his barings, but Selina was quick to pull him up into a standing position.

"Come on," she insisted, dragging him a few feet forward, "we don't know they won't come after you. We've got to keep moving."

Bruce pulled his arm away from Selina and stared at her in confusion. "How did you know they would take me?"

Selina groaned and pulled her goggles off of her head. She then sighed and fluffed her curly hair a bit. "I didn't know. I just figured I could lure the driver out, hit him over the head with the maintenance wrench, and take his keys. Then those guys couldn't escape as easily."

"But why were you even here in the first place? I looked all over for you. I was going to invite you—"

"—good thing you didn't, or else—"

" _Selina_."

The girl quieted and looked down, shrugging. "I have… a job. It's only temporary. I don't have time to explain it all now. I found out these guys were hitting this place, and that they have something against Wayne Enterprises. I figured you would be in trouble so…" She shook her head and looked back up. "Listen, don't take it the wrong way or anything, I just didn't—"

"Well, thank you. I think you may have saved my life. I… owe you one. I've got to find Alfred and Detective Gordon. They're probably worried I've been kidnapped," Bruce said and looked around the room for an exit. There was a door and an elevator in the room.

"Yeah, you owe me one," Selina replied with her typical smug smile. "And technically, you _were_ kidnapped. You're just free now. Come on, let's take the elevator. Less chance of us running into the baddies."

There was a maintenance key already inserted into the lock of the elevator. Selina looked at it for all of one second before quickly turning it. Bruce wondered how many other buildings she had broken into and done a similar thing, since she knew how to put it into maintenance mode immediately.

"Okay, so, we're on the lowest floor now, g-four. If we want to get to the entrance level, that's probably the 'one' button." She pressed, and after about two seconds, they were moving straight to their floor. Since it was in maintenance mode, even if someone else tried to stop it on another floor, they would bypass it completely.

When it stopped and the doors open, Selina peaked her head out and hummed thoughtfully. "No one around. That makes things easy. C'mon."

Despite being alone, she still kept her head down as she lead Bruce the hallways. She would stop at a corner, raise her hand to stop Bruce, and then inch around to make sure it was clear. "I think everyone evacuated. I can see into one of the exhibits. It's some ancient room. Sounds like a lot of people talking."

Bruce quickly nodded, "yes, that's probably the ancient Rome exhibit, that's where we were when the men entered and shot someone."

"Okay, you stay here, I will check to see if the police are in there." She didn't wait for answer before she snuck off. He watched as she moved through the hallway—and she stuck out terribly. The hallway was pristinely white, and her dark, casual clothes were like a beacon. Still, there were no signs of alarm as she leaned into the doorway and glanced around. She then stood straight and waved him over. "It's just guests. Police are starting to arrive. I see Detective Gordon."

A wave of relief washed through Bruce. In fact, he hadn't realized how tense his muscles were until she told him he was in the clear. If he were a more immature boy, he may have cried. But he didn't. He held his head high and walked over to meet Selina. "Are you going to come in too?"

"No," she replied, "they'd ask me too many questions. You can tell Gordon I was here, if you want. Alfred already saw me. It won't be a surprise. I just don't want anyone else to see me. Could put my new, er, job in jeapordy."

"Will you eventually tell me what sort of job it is? Or are you going to keep eluding to it as if to taunt me," Bruce asked with a frown. He wasn't sure if Selina was purposefully trying to catch his interest or not.

She rolled her eyes. "I dunno, maybe. It's not… that interesting. It just pays well, and it won't be around forever. I'm trying to rack in as much cash as I can while they're here."

"'They'? So, you're doing something for people who aren't usually here, and because of those people, you knew there would be an incident tonight?" Bruce asked quickly, raising a brow.

"Ugh, stop that, I'm not going to talk about it. Just go talk to Gordon and make sure Alfred's okay."

Bruce stood up a bit straighter. "Wait, what? Is there a reason Alfred wouldn't be—"

Selina frowned and quickly turned, taking off to run down the hallway. He followed after her for about five steps before he looked back at the door. He groaned and hit the wall next to him, a _smack_ resonating throughout the hallway. He turned back around and walked through the door.

Gordon was in the middle of being looked over by Lee. His hand was bandaged and his pant legs were rolled up. He had bruising everywhere that Bruce could see. Regardless, as soon as Gordon saw Bruce, he jumped up and limped over, placing his hands on Bruce's shoulder. "Oh God, you're all right, I thought that they had taken you…. Why didn't you stay where I told you?"

Bruce looked up at the other man to see a mix of worry and relief, and maybe a bit of anger. But with everything that had happened that night, Bruce felt that Gordon was entitled to some anger.

"I was taken. Selina showed up, help me escape. She wouldn't stay for questioning, though I suppose that isn't much of a surprise…" He craned his neck to see around Detective Gordon. He couldn't find Alfred in the crowd of people still in the building. He patted himself down for his cell phone, but realized that he must have lost it along the way—maybe in the pile of rags when he landed. "Have you seen Alfred? Selina said something that worries me… I would really like to go find him."

"I haven't seen him, but we'll find him. He's probably out in the crowd outside. The other officers are just arriving on the scene, and they're keeping anyone from entering the building—even the guests who had been inside and fled." Gordon turned, bracing himself on Bruce's shoulder. Together, they slowly made their way through the crowd, which parted for them as they approached.

"Are you okay, Detective Gordon? I didn't see you when they grabbed me…"

"I'll be fine, Bruce. Nothing too serious."

Bruce wasn't sure if the Detective was telling him the truth, or just trying to keep him from worrying. It was not unusual for adults to bend the truth around him, thinking he was too fragile a child to handle their honesty. He didn't bother asking any further questions. He was sure that Gordon would come to visit Wayne Manor for a more private questioning.

A set of officers tried to stop the pair from exiting the building, but once Gordon assured them that would be right back in—that they were just checking on another guest. Bruce shivered as they hit the crisp night air, but it was somewhat of a relief. As he was thinking on how nice the cool air felt on his warm face, his eye caught sight of a glimpse of silver on the ground, kicked away from the awning at the entrance.

"That's Alfred's phone," he said, pointing at the crushed device. They walked over to it to get a better look.

"Are you sure? It could be anyone's—"

"It's engraved with his initials. A.T.C.P. It's definitely his."

Bruce looked around for any other signs of Alfred's whereabouts, but he couldn't see much through the crowd of terrified gala guests. Gordon shifted around, standing on his toes with a wince. He seemed to focus on something and then glanced back down at Bruce. "Stay here."

"No, I'm coming with you. I'm not being left along again," Bruce sternly answered. Gordon looked as though he wanted to argue, but he did not.

"Fine. I see a crowd of people towards the side of the building. Some cops are standing around looking at something. I want to check it out."

They continued onwards until they had reached the officers. A few guests were crowding around, trying to get a look at whatever was beyond the officers, and the officers were having a hard time keeping everyone back.

"Alright everyone," Gordon said loudly, his voice boarding a shout, "move aside. Let the officers do their jobs." A few people grumbled and stepped away until there was enough space for both Gordon and Bruce to slide up. As Gordon started to ask the officers a few questions, Bruce's eyes went wide.

"Alfred!"

000

"I'll be fine, Master Bruce," Alfred said for the third time from his hospital bed. "A few bruised ribs aren't enough to put be down. The doctor will dismiss me soon, and all will be well. I'm just angry that I couldn't have been there to intervene… Should've known something was wrong." Alfred scowled and set his head back. Internally, he was fuming.

And internally, it wasn't just a few bruised ribs.

"They're cracked not just bruised. The doctor said if you had taken one more kick, they'd be broken _and_ they might have punctured your lung. You have to take it easy, Alfred," Bruce insisted. He was sitting in one of the cushioned chairs, staring at Alfred flatly.

Alfred didn't like the look that his young ward was giving him. It was like Bruce was angry at him for being hurt—hurt while trying to get to him to make sure he was safe. Ungrateful little…

"I don't know what I would do if I lost you, Alfred. You're the only one I have left."

Alfred sighed and nodded slightly. "I know Master Bruce."

Of course, it was part of his job to give his life to protect Bruce at all costs—not that he would only do that because it was in his job description. He loved the boy like the son he never had. Even if Bruce were to fire him, he wondered if he could really leave. He thought it was more likely he would end up watching over him from a distance, just in case.

He owed Bruce that much. He owned Thomas and Matha that much as well. They saved his life by taking him in and giving him a job. He was sure he would have ended up like some of his other comrades-in-arms if he hadn't had something cause to give himself to. He felt a sense of privilege every time he woke up to another day as Bruce's guardian.

"Any news on the attackers?" Alfred asked, trying to change to tone of the room. He hadn't yet got his hands on a newspaper to see what had been reported. "Any word of what they were after or if they will strike again? I worry about you being in the care of the rest of the staff, those lazy little bu—"

"Nothing," Bruce interrupted, "no news. I'm sure Detective Gordon will dig up something though. And I will be fine, Alfred. Margaret and the others are doing fine. Her eggs aren't as good as yours though, no matter how hard she tries to copy them."

The side of Alfred's mouth twitched upwards. "Sometimes I'm surprised that woman knows how to turn on a stove… She's staying at the manor full time now, yeah?"

"For now. Johnson is waiting outside for me in the car. I best not keep him waiting. I will come back tomorrow and visit. Behave Alfred," Bruce said and stood. Patting Alfred on the arm.

"Aren't I supposed to be telling you to behave?"

"I always behave, Alfred." Bruce smiled, and it caused Alfred to smile in return. A joke. Master Bruce rarely joked. That was something to truly lift his spirits.

Alfred watched as Bruce collected his jacket from the back of his chair and headed for the clear glass door. He slid it open, letting in the noise of the rest of the hospital, before he closed it. The sudden silence made Alfred feel very shut off from the world. He put his head back and closed his eyes. He didn't see Bruce as something caught his attention, causing him to walk in the opposite direction of the exit.

000

 _Author's Notes: as a preface for coming chapters—I do think that Alfred is a very capable fighter when it comes to hand to hand combat. He had a hard time with the two security guards because there were two of them, both of them who were very big and strong, and both of whom also had training. However, the theme of this story will be that Alfred is starting to feel his age, and he doesn't much like it._

 _On a side note… I live in the city where The Dark Knight Rises was filmed. (When I was in college, you could see the Batmobile cruising down the street during filming.) So, Gotham is based off of my city for the purposes of this story._

 _Thanks for reading!_

 _Ever Your Servant,_

 _A.F_


	5. Chapter 5

Swan Song

Rated: T

Tensions in Gotham skyrocket as a man out for revenge seeks the blood of those who ruined his family. Unfortunately for Bruce, Wayne Enterprises is caught up in the disaster, putting him in harm's way once more. Knowing that it's too much for Alfred to handle alone, and that Detective Gordon can't always be around to save his skin, Bruce takes matters into his own hands and hires some extra help. (Canon pairings and eventual Alfred/OC because Alfie doesn't get enough love!)

000

"Where are we going?"

"We're almost there."

Bruce rolled his eyes. No matter how many times he asked, Selina didn't answer him. They had walked over ten blocks and his Italian leather shoes were starting to hurt. He had trusted her when she showed up at the hospital, but he was starting to think that he should've stayed behind. Alfred was in the hospital, after all, and his driver Johnson was unlikely to come to his aid if it were needed. Not that Johnson knew where to look for him—Bruce hadn't done more than to tell him to hang around the city until he called for his ride.

"You wanted to know where I was working, right? Well, I'm going to show you." As the two young teenagers ran down the streets of Gotham, a few people cleared there way. A few more yelled at them for being rude and pushing passed other walkers. As they reached a small market, a large man carrying a crate of vegetables saw them coming and hurried to twist out of the way to save his product from being knocked over by Selina. As soon as his back was turned, Selina grabbed two apples from one of the bins along the roads and pocketed them.

"Selina, slow down!"

His shouts fell on deaf ears. She continued to weave through pedestrians until she almost lost Bruce. He was forced to run through a crosswalk with a blinking red hand in order to keep from getting separated. Finally, he saw why she refused to slow down.

They had caught up with a box truck bearing the name _Maroni_. Selina didn't hesitate to jump and grab onto one of the side handles. It always impressed Bruce how easily she could glide through the air. It was a grace he did not yet possess. Still, that didn't stop him from launching off the ground and snagging the handle after she moved carefully to the other side of the truck. He almost slipped, his shoes were hardly meant for such activities, but he managed to hold on.

He took a moment to look behind them at the few cars that could see them. The drivers and passengers leaned forward to look and them but then shook their heads. Maybe seeing teenagers hop on the backs of truck's wasn't all that unusual in this part of town.

And 'this part of town' was not what he was used to. They were approaching the Gotham docks, which was a place he really couldn't say he had ventured into before. After a few turns, they didn't have any cars trailing behind anymore. It was just Bruce, Selina, and the box truck.

"Selina, _what are we doing_?"

"What, not having fun, Brucey?" She replied with a smile and let go of the handle so that she was only holding on with one hand. She leaned back and hung in the air, laughing.

Sure, he was having a bit of fun. It was dangerous and exhilarating. But it was also dangerous and terrifying. If he hadn't been so determined to overcome fear anyhow, he may have never bothered with Selina in the first place.

They wound between tall, dark, crumbling buildings. Bruce figured they were probably abandoned—but each time he started to think that, he swore he felt eyes staring down at him. Soon, they approached a section filled with warehouses. Though the other buildings—old offices and housing structures—seemed to be neglected, the warehouse were buzzing with activity.

"Time to jump," Selina said and twisted around. She waited until the truck slowed to make a turn then jumped and hit the ground in a crouch. She stumbled a bit but caught herself. Bruce frowned hard. Once again he realized that his clothing was not meant for Selina's activities. He knew by the end of their little excursion, his expensive slacks and shoes would be ruined. He wasn't as sure about his pea coat, but he was out growing that anyhow, so it hardly mattered.

She waved at him to hurry as the truck finished turning. Bruce took a breath and jumped. His hit the ground and rolled a bit. Yup. His pants tore at the knee. She pushed himself up and brushed the gravel from his hands.

"You know," he said with some annoyance as Selina approached him. "I don't know how you're still alive. With the stunts you pull, you should really be dead."

Selina shrugged. "You're probably right. But I'm like a cat—nine lives and all. Nothing's done me in too badly, yet. Come on, if we don't hurry, we'll miss the opening ceremonies. You've been to the circus, right?"

"Of course I've been to the circus. Is that where we're going? A circus, here?"

"No, no," she laughed, "it's more like a coliseum. But, like, if you mixed it with a circus. It doesn't stay in one place for long. Gets too expensive to bribe the cops to turn a blind eye, especially after a body or two has turned up."

Bruce stiffened at her words. "Body?"

"Oh don't worry, not from the audience. Not usually, at least. You'll see."

000

Bruce checked his watch as they approached one of the active warehouses. He had already been gone over an hour. He had turned his phone off to keep Johnson from trying to track him, but he did have a worry that Johnson would get Alfred involved after so long. He was sure he would get a verbal lashing as soon as he got in, but he could only hope that whatever Selina had to show him was worth it.

They went to one of the side doors. There was a young man outside of it, leaning against the wall and smoking a cigarette. "What do you think you're doing, Cat? They aren't looking for more help. You shouldn't be bringing other kids around here." Despite his words, the young man seemed like he couldn't have cared less. He hardly even spared them a look.

"Nah, just a friend. I'm off tonight. Gonna just watch tonight," she said and pulled the door open. Apparently, it wasn't even locked.

The young man shrugged. "Don't get caught. It's your funeral."

As soon as Bruce entered behind Selina, a rush of sound filled his ears. While it had seemed relatively calm and still outside, inside it was anything but. People were running back and forth down the hallway they had entered into. It was dark—not just in lighting but in structure. Metal beams and recycled wood made up the walls and ceiling, as if someone had built the interior with whatever materials were available.

No one paid them much attention. It seemed like everyone who moved by them had an important mission in mind. People were shouting, calling for others or fervently asking for help in a task. They walked by an open room where Bruce saw a woman, nude from the waist and up, holding some sort of clothing and shouting at an older woman who sat quietly with a measuring tape in hand and pins in her mouth.

They had to push themselves against the wall to let a few men with carts filled with lighting equipment pass by. Bruce was sure the men were actually _trying_ to run over their feet. Selina shook her head and sighed as they continued onwards.

When the two of them hit a set of metal stairs, Selina quickly scaled them with Bruce following close behind. Once they had reached the next level, which was about two stories up, Bruce saw that they were actually above most of the activity. The walkways and platforms they crossed didn't connect to other rooms, just open air. The only people up top looked like men and women preparing sound and lighting systems.

They walked along the metal platforms, their footsteps creating metal clinking with each movement, until they had walked perpendicular to the hallway they had entered into. Bruce paused to look out over the rest of the warehouse with a bit of awe.

Selina wasn't kidding—it did look like an arena. Beyond the shoddy walls separating the sort of 'back rooms' from the rest of the building, there was a large, open area surrounded by stadium seating. Some areas were blocked off to create private boxes, which looked much nicer than the rest of the seating.

"Come on," Selina insisted, "we can't stop here. Someone might think it's suspicious. We are _really_ supposed to be up here. But hey, if you walk like you know what you're doing, people rarely stop you."

They went up another flight of steps until they reached a door which was propped open with part of a two by four. It led onto the roof which had a few other teenagers milling about, smoking, drinking, and playing cards. There was even a little radio set up playing a local station. Some of the other people on the roof looked up and gave them a nod.

"So… this is where you've been hanging out? Why I couldn't find you?" Bruce asked, following Selena to a set of rusting metal lawn chairs. They were beneath a large canopy, next to a large set of rooftop windows.

"Most of the time. I run errands for the people who run this show. They don't know the city very well, nor do they know how to find the sort of people they want for their audience. Me and the others will run invitations to the big shots and sometimes set up stations for ticket sales. We get a cut of it, so it encourages us to get out and sell more. It's an easy gig for someone like me. I'll miss it when they're gone," she said and pulled out the apples from her jacket pocket. She tossed one to Bruce. He caught it and stared at it. It was stolen goods, and he felt a little guilty eating it.

But then his stomach rumbled and he decided it was better than letting it go to waste.

It was around dinner time, and he was grateful he had eaten a big lunch. He doubted he would be home anytime soon.

"There will be a lot of fancy cars here later. Everything here should wrap up around midnight, before the after party. You can tell your ride to be here around then so that you can leave with everyone else."

Bruce nodded and thumbed his phone, but he did not turn it back on yet. He knew that if he texted Johnson now, he would be hounded non-stop until he answered his phone. Instead, he leaned forward to get a view into windows. Though they were very high up, he had a rather unobstructed view of the center of the arena. There were people down below with large rack-like appliances, combing through the sand which covered the arena floor. It made Bruce think back to the last time he had been to a baseball game.

"Tonight's the last night for the show," Selina said and finished off her apple. She tossed it to the side, letting it land in a nearby barrel, which earned her a few nasty words from the young man trying to get it the contents of said barrel to catch on fire. The sun would be going down shortly, and it was going to get very chilly. "They'll spend a few days tearing down, and then they'll be onto the next city, wherever that will be."

The lights dimmed in the arena and the activity died down. Just as the sun was about to go below the horizon, Bruce could see the doors open on one side of the warehouse, giving way to the attendees who had apparently been waiting outside. Within fifteen minutes, the pseudo stadium was filled and darkness was upon him. The other teenagers around him pulled up chairs and discarded cushions, arranging themselves around the open windows and between the barrels of fire.

A spot light clicked on, illuminating the center of the arena. Even from his distance, Bruce could see the details of the costume on the standing wide armed in the spotlight. The man wore a red and black waist coat, with over the top pointed shoulders. He had a top had in one hand, complete with feathers and off white details that Bruce couldn't quite make out, and in the other a silver cane which glittered in the light. Most notable was the man's make up—his head was shaven and both his face and scalp were painted to look like a skull.

"Good evening, Ladies and Gentleman—Gods and Monsters of Gotham!" The crowd silenced at the man's voice, which echoed through the warehouse. "So good of you to join us! With heavy hearts we bring to you our final performance in your great city—" he placed his hat and hand over his heart and bowed his head dramatically to the sound of booing "—though perhaps we will be back. Maybe in ten years, maybe in twenty. We are in demand all across the globe, and we have many audiences to appease… but rest assured, none of them are as sick, twisted, and as bloodthirsty as Gotham!"

Bruce furrowed his brows, wondering why the man had thought it was wise to insult the crowd in such a way… but it was no insult. The arena erupted into a roaring of cheers and applause, and the man pumped his arms wildly, encouraging more.

After a few moments, he waved the crowd down and continued. "As a reminder, though our show ultraviolent and wildly inappropriate, we do not tolerate misconduct from our audience—as most of you probably already know from our last show."

Bruce looked to Selina as the crowd let out an awkward sort of laugh. She widened her eyes and shook her head as if to say, _don't even ask._

"Betting booths will be open until five minutes before a match, and then will close. Be sure to go to the _Collections Booths_ , not the Betting Booths, with your tickets following a match to retrieve any winnings. I think that about covers all of our extraneous information… So, Gotham, if you will, please join in me kicking off the last performance of our stop! Please enjoy…. _Cirque de Fin!_ "

000

 _Author's Notes: For some reason, I just couldn't figure out what to name the 'show.' I was so stopped up. Special thanks to my friend, Zerath, who came up with the name! He's also been a big help in letting me bounce ideas off of him! Next chapter! You may actually see the original character referenced in the story tags! It only took six chapters! (Once again, this reaffirms my point—my original character is not the main character!)_

 _Thanks for reading!_

 _Ever Your Servant,_

 _A.F_


End file.
